Where The Darkness Meets The Day
by LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou
Summary: Aaron Hotchner&Emily Prentiss / -He falls for her the moment she walks into his office. "Agent Hotchner?" she asks, a dazzling smile on her face and a cardboard box in her hands. "I'm Agent Emily Prentiss." It's how it all starts. And it might be how it ends: in that moment when he finds himself reflected in the dark depths of her eyes. / dark&twisty
1. PART 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

 **AN:** **Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me! And a special thank you goes to my beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

* * *

 **Where The Darkness Meets The Day**

 **.**

 **.**

 _-"You take it from me, my boy: there is no room in this business for love." - Terrence, Legends_

 **.**

* * *

 **PART 1**

 **.**

He falls for her the moment she walks into his office.

"Agent Hotchner?" she asks, a dazzling smile on her face and a cardboard box in her hands. "I'm Agent Emily Prentiss."

It's how it all starts.

And it might be how it ends: in that moment when he finds himself reflected in the dark depths of her eyes.

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **III**

 **.**

He's the first one to arrive at the scene.

The cars in front of the warehouse are ablaze, the fire quickly spreading toward the building. The air is thick and heavy with smoke. It makes his eyes tear and his lungs burn, tasting like ashes and blood on his tongue.

 _Emily._

He scans the ground, his eyes searching the darkness for a sign of life. But there's nothing.

 _I'm too late._

He stumbles forward, calling her name. But there's no answer, only sirens wailing in the distance and the raging fire in front of him.

 _No,_ he thinks. _Not again._

And then he spots her.

Just a couple of yards away, sitting on the concrete with her back against the site fence.

"Emily," he calls out, relief flooding his veins. He's next to her in two strides. "Emily," he starts. "Can you hear me?" He bends down in front of her. "Are you alright? Emily?"

But she doesn't answer, doesn't even blink. She just stares. Her clothes stained with blood, her fingers tightly closed around the gun in her hands.

"It's over," Aaron whispers, his voice hoarse and his hand slowly reaching for her weapon. "It's over, Emily."

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **II**

 **.**

"I want you to come over for dinner on Saturday."

"Excuse me?" Emily looks up, startled. She casts a side-glance towards the door to make sure they're still alone.

"What about Jack?" she asks. "Another sleepover?"

"No." Aaron shakes his head and his dark eyes find hers from across the conference table. "I want us to have dinner together."

For a moment Emily says nothing. Then, very slowly, she lowers her pen. "You want to tell him," she states and tries to keep her voice even.

"That's what I planned, yes."

"Why?"

Aaron frowns. "Why not?"

"Because-", Emily starts and stops and looks back down at the file on the table in front of her. "I just-" She bites her tongue, unsure how to answer.

"Emily, I…"

She blinks, surprised when she finds Aaron standing next to her all of a sudden, his hand reaching for hers without hesitation.

"What are you doing?" She glares. "Someone will see us!"

"I know."

"You want-" Emily stares, the look in his eyes unmistakable. "But we agreed-"

"Emily, there was - oh!" It's Garcia, coming to a sudden stop in the doorframe to the conference room. Her eyes widen in surprise. " I'm sorry," she stammers and Emily realizes Aaron is still holding her hand. "Did I interrupt-"

"No," Emily hurries herself to answer and immediately draws back her hand. "What is it?" she asks and gets up, moving past Aaron and towards Garcia.

"A man called," Garcia starts. "He didn't tell me his name, but he said you should call him back and that you would know…"

Garcia keeps talking, but Emily isn't listening any longer. Her eyes are fixed on the note in Garcia's hands, the familiar number Garcia had written down for her.

It just isn't a phone number.

It's a message.

.

"How is this even possible," she whispers, her eyes closed.

"I don't know."

"It shouldn't have happened."

"No, darling," Clyde sighs. "It shouldn't."

Her eyes snap open and she looks out of the car window and into the dark.

"Where are the others," she wants to know. "Did you tell them?"

Clyde shakes his head and Emily frowns.

"What is wrong with you? Why didn't you-"

"There's no one left, Emily."

She blinks. Not sure if she heard him right. "What are you saying?"

"He already got them, Emily."

"No," she shakes her head. A nervous laugh stuck in her throat. "No, that's-"

"Tsia, Jeremy, Sean, their families. Everyone who worked with us on that case."

"No." Emily shakes her head. Gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turn white. "No." She's feeling sick. _That can't be-_

"They're all dead, Emily," Clyde adds. His voice calm and composed, but his bright blue eyes filled with grief.

"And you and me, darling, we're next."

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **I**

 **.**

His marriage is over, even though Aaron Hotchner would rather be shot than admit that out loud.

He failed, not only Haley, but his son too, and he hates himself for hurting them.

They're rarely talking anymore, _Haley and him,_ and when they do they're fighting. He's waiting for her to take Jack and leave without looking back. Knows that one day she will. And she should, Aaron thinks, because she deserves someone better than him. Someone who puts her and Jack first. Someone who doesn't run off every time his phone rings.

He can't give her what she wants, can't be the man and father she wants him to become. _He tried._

Maybe they were never meant to be in the first place. Maybe he'd been too young to make a decision like that, when they got married all those years ago.

When he forgets their anniversary and Haley doesn't even blink, Aaron knows it's over. She's finally given up and he can't blame her. He's given up on himself a long time ago.

.

Aaron is sitting behind his desk in his office, staring down at the divorce papers in front of him. He knew they would come, has known it for weeks, months even and yet-

He puts his pen down and pinches the bridge of his nose. He still wishes he'd tried something, _anything_ , to keep this from happening. Not necessarily for him or Haley, _no,_ but for Jack. But he hadn't and now it was too late.

A knock on his door makes him lift his head.

"Hey." It's Emily, standing in the doorframe to his office with a stack of manila folders in her arms. "I finished those reports you wanted."

Aaron frowns. "Morgan was supposed to do that, not you."

"Well." Emily shrugs. "He had plans for tonight. I got stood up."

He watches her put down the folders on the cabinet next to his door and it's just then that Aaron notices. Instead of boots, she's wearing high heels and instead of a pantsuit there's a little black dress that's hugging her curves in such a perfect way, he can't help but stare.

 _Fuck._

Whoever she'd planned to go out with must be a lunatic for not showing up.

He clears his throat, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Are you alright, Hotch?"

He forces himself to tear his gaze away from her endless legs and looks up at her face. Her dark eyes glisten in the faint light and Aaron's sure she's done something with her hair, even though he can't tell what it is.

"Hotch?"

He hasn't even realized he has moved until he finds himself pushing back his chair. His mind blank. "I think you should go," he tells her. His voice strained.

"Maybe I should," she says, watching him carefully. But instead of leaving, she pushes the door to his office shut.

A heartbeat later she's in his arms, her lips meeting his with so much need that it hurts. With his hands on her hips he hoists her up on his desk without thinking, just like he wanted to since the first time she walked into his office.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs and he knows it sounds like a _fucking plea_. "Tell me to stop and I will."

There's a smile on her face and a spark in her eyes and he knows she won't. She grabs him by the collar of his button down and pulls him down with her, her legs slung around his waist.

"Don't you dare," she breathes against his lips, before silencing him with a kiss.

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **.**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**


	2. PART 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

 **AN:** **Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me! And a special thank you goes to my beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

* * *

 **.**

 **Where The Darkness Meets The Day**

 **.**

 _-"You take it from me, my boy: there is no room in this business for love." - Terrence, Legends_

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **PART 2**

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **III**

 **.**

Emily expects anger, hurt and betrayal, but when Aaron bends down in front of her there's just relief written in his eyes, and Emily knows Clyde kept not just his word, but her secrets too.

The fire is raging, angry flames spreading fast and destroying everything in its wake and for the first time that night, Emily feels guilty.

 _This is on me._

She feels Aaron's skin brush against hers and watches as he withdraws the gun from between her bloody fingers. His lips are moving, but Emily can't hear a sound. She wants to tell him that she's sorry. But it would be a lie and she's already told him too many.

He slips out of his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders with care, before his arms close around her waist to pull her to her feet. The world starts spinning immediately and Emily holds on to him to steady herself. She frowns when she notices that the sleeves of his button-down start to turn crimson under her touch.

 _I did it for you,_ she thinks. _I did it for you._

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **II**

 **.**

"What are you doing here?"

It's neither the welcome he expected nor the one he hoped for. With dark, unblinking eyes, Emily's gazing back at him, the door to her apartment still halfway closed.

"You weren't answering your phone. I got worried. Can I come in?"

From the way she's looking at him Aaron's sure she's going to throw the door straight back in his face, but instead she steps back, opening the door just far enough for him to slip through.

"Look, Emily, I wanted to-" he starts and stops, when he spots the gun in her hands. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"It's late, Aaron. Why are you here?" She sounds tired and there's something strange in her voice, something he can't decipher.

"I wanted to apologize," he starts.

"Apologize?" She looks confused. "What would you apologize for?"

"About today. I shouldn't have asked you the way I did."

"I'm not going to push you on this, Emily," he adds, noticing the way she's holding her gun in a death grip. "If you're not ready to make it official, I won't force you."

For a moment she says nothing. It's not a pleasant silence and Aaron wonders if he already took it too far. _He of all people should have known better._

"I'm not who you want me to be, Aaron." He watches her eyes close. "I never was."

"Emily, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Stop apologizing!" She glares at him from under thick eyelashes, her eyes glistening furiously, and if he hadn't known better he would have said she was fighting back tears.

"You shouldn't even be here! Just go!"

She sounds frantic and he can't shake the feeling that he's missing something important. She steps forward, reaching for the doorknob with her free hand, but Aaron stops her with his hand around her wrist.

"Tell me what happened."

She shakes her head. "Go home, Aaron."

"No, not until you tell me-"

He never gets to finish that sentence.

She cuts him off with a kiss, the burning sensation of bourbon on her tongue. He briefly wonders where her gun went, when her fingers start working his zipper, her soft lips never breaking away.

He hoists her up onto the dresser next to the door, sending papers down to the floor in a haze and the buttons of her blouse flying when he rips it open.

"You can't stay," she breathes against his lips, her words betraying the desperation in her eyes. "You need to leave."

He nods, pushing her pants down her hips and out of the way. "I know."

She pulls him closer with his tie wrapped around her hand and he knows he should stop her, _should stop himself,_ but _this_ is their way to cope. Has been for years and even if he wanted to, he has no idea how to stop.

"Take me, Aaron."

He doesn't need to be told twice.

.

He wakes up to someone else's screams.

His eyes snap open instantly and he's ready to hurry down the hallway to Jack's bedroom, when he realizes he's not at home and the person screaming isn't his son, but Emily.

"Emily, shh, it's just a nightmare." He reaches for her, his fingertips brushing softly against her cheek. "Emily, it's -"

He's pushed back down on the bed so fast he barely has the time to blink. She has him straddled with her legs, her hands closing around his throat in a tight grip. Her dark eyes blank like polished marble, staring at him from above.

"Emily," Aaron croaks. "Emily, stop, it's me, Aaron."

She blinks, once, twice and then again. Her grip around his throat loosens and then her hands are gone, terror written all over her pale face.

Aaron coughs, his hands reaching for her instinctively while he sits up. "Emily."

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm sorry, I didn't-" She stumbles out of bed and through the dark, a sheet pressed against her naked body.

"You need to go, Aaron," she adds with a broken voice and then she's gone, the bathroom door falling shut behind her.

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **I**

 **.**

The first time it just happens.

There's a second time and a third and a fourth and a fifth and Emily keeps telling herself there won't be another, until there is.

He looks guilty, but Emily just straightens her clothes and reminds herself not to care. She pretends nothing happened. And so does he. It's just another thing they're both good at.

"We shouldn't do this," he tells her after New York, when he shows up at her door in the middle of the night. He looks lost and lonely and broken and Emily says nothing, because she knows he didn't come to talk.

"We really shouldn't do this," she agrees a few weeks later, while she's reaching for his belt in the small bathroom of the jet on their flight back from Colorado. She just wants to forget and he's more than willing to help her with that.

"We need to stop doing this," he tells her in an elevator in Vegas, but then he goes down on her anyway and doesn't stop until her knees give way.

"You're right," she agrees while he takes her pushed up against a locker in Atlanta, the risk of getting caught by one of their team almost exhilarating. "We really should stop doing this."

"Just one more time," she breathes and he nods. "One more time."

.

When a car comes to a sudden stop right behind her, Emily doesn't need to turn around to know it's Aaron.

It's still snowing, her whole body turned to ice. The childhood picture frozen between her fingers, stained with blood. _Ruined._

"Let me take you home," Aaron begs her quietly. His voice soft and warm and nothing like a few hours ago when he was arguing with her in the middle of his office.

She's tempted to give in, she really is. But she can't. Not tonight. She doesn't deserve to forget, _no_ , she needs to remember. _She owes Matthew that much._

"Emily."

She wants to answer, but the words won't come. And she can't move either. She doesn't even dare to blink, afraid it will make tears fall down her burning cheeks. And she can't cry. She won't.

"I'll take you home."

This time it's not a question and Aaron doesn't wait for permission before he slips an arm around her waist. He half walks, half carries her to his car, all the while trying to keep them both from slipping on the frozen ground.

Emily doesn't remember the car ride or the way up to her apartment or how they ended up in her bedroom. Yet here they are. Without another word, Aaron helps her out of her coat and her boots and even through he's undressed her many times before, everything about this feels different. _Almost too intimate._ Although they're both still dressed.

She lowers herself onto the cushions, taken aback when she finds Aaron doing the same.

"I'm not going anywhere," he explains and he sounds so honest, Emily feels like crying. She reaches for his hand before she can stop herself from doing so, breaking all the rules in the blink of an eye. But she feels too broken to care.

"I'm here," Aaron assures her. "I'm right here."

When Emily wakes up the next morning, Aaron's still there, sleeping right next to her. His hand curled around hers.

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **.**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**


	3. PART 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

 **AN:** **Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me! And a special thank you goes to my beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

* * *

 **.**

 **Where The Darkness Meets The Day**

 **.**

 _-"You take it from me, my boy: there is no room in this business for love." - Terrence, Legends_

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **PART 3**

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **III**

 **.**

By the time black SUV's, fire trucks and police cars line the parameter, Emily still hasn't said a word.

She's sitting in the back of an ambulance, a paramedic treating the cut on her forehead, while she stares straight ahead.

Aaron is watching her from a few feet away and he doesn't dare turn his gaze away, too scared she might just disappear all over again if he does.

He'd always known that her file was too perfectly constructed. But he'd never guessed it was something like this. Though now that he knew, everything seemed to fall into place.

"Agent Hotchner."

At the sound of his name, Aaron glances to the side and finds Clyde Easter coming to a stop right beside him. He looks annoyingly calm and Aaron feels the need to beat that smug look straight off his face.

"This matter is no longer in the jurisdiction of the FBI," Easter informs him outright. His words sound rehearsed, like he's said them a million times before. "You have no clearance to be on this compound any longer. I have to ask you and your team to leave."

"Why am I not surprised?" Aaron muses and crosses his arms in front of his chest defiantly.

Instead of giving an answer, Easter follows his gaze.

"Has she said anything yet?" he asks.

Aaron shakes his head. "No. But it wouldn't matter if she did, am I right?"

"Not for the record, no," Easter admits. "I already have all the answers I need."

"You knew what was going to happen. You knew what she would do and you stalled us so she could finish the job, didn't you?" Aaron's words sound more like an accusation than a question, but Easter doesn't even blink.

"You must be really proud," Aaron finishes. "You taught her _damn_ well."

Easter shakes his head, and for the first time Aaron sees a hint of emotion cross his features. "Emily did what she had to do," he says, remorse in his voice Aaron didn't expect. "I never had to teach her anything."

"I have to talk to her for a minute," Easter adds after a brief pause. His expression back to its detached coldness as if nothing ever happened. "You can ride with her to the hospital as soon as I'm done; just make sure your team leaves, too. There's enough on my head as it is."

With that Easter's gone, already on his way over to the ambulance.

.

* * *

 **.**

 **II**

 **.**

The sky over Washington has turned a cloudless blue, and even though the air is still sharp and crisp, the sun is shining and Emily can't stop thinking that it feels _all wrong._

She's scanning the people outside the diner, wondering if there's already a gun pointed at her head.

"He won't do it quick, darling."

She blinks, slowly turning around to face Clyde, who's sitting at the table across from her.

"He makes his victims suffer," Clyde explains. "He made Sean watch while he killed his son and his wife. He tortured him until the very end."

Emily swallows.

"They tortured his son because of us. It's the reason he's doing this."

"They wanted more on Doyle, Emily, we had no choice but to put him into his profile."

Emily shakes her head. "You didn't. I did. And there's always a choice, Clyde. Always. I made the wrong one."

She watches him lean back in his seat, his blue eyes searching hers. "What was the boy's name again?" he asks her suddenly. "Lucas? Liam?"

Emily closes her eyes. "Declan," she says. "His name was Declan." Never would she be able to forget that blonde little boy with the biggest smile. A smile that made her crumble and break and ruined her career in the blink of an eye.

"I heard he loves science. And soccer. Even though I don't quiet understand how that works together. I always thought it's either sports or-"

Emily blinks. "What did you just say?"

Clyde returns her gaze without blinking. "Do you really think I didn't know?"

It doesn't sound like a question and Emily's taken aback when she realizes what he just told her.

"You knew?" she whispers and grabs her coffee a little tighter between her hands.

"Of course I did."

"But you never said anything!"

"I always hoped you would tell me someday. I thought you trusted me. Obviously, I was wrong."

Emily bites her tongue. "That's not how it was," she says. "I had to do something," she adds and stares down at the table. Her eyes fixed on a stain on the tablecloth. "I had to act fast, there was no time to talk to you first. And then it was just safer not to talk about it all."

"You forgot to mention the fact that your were in love with his father."

"This has nothing to do with Ian," Emily glares. Her voice firm but filled with guilt. "Declan was just a little boy. I couldn't risk his life. I just couldn't." A moment later she adds, "It's my fault. All of this. You don't have to tell me, I already know."

Clyde sighs, and if she hadn't known any better, she would have said he looked sad. "No, Emily, if you want to blame someone, blame Jeremy. He screwed us over for a _fucking_ house."

"Are you sure it was him?"

Clyde nods. "He told Tsia. She called me, but by the time I got her message they were already dead."

"What do you think he's going to do to us," Emily murmurs. More to herself than to him, looking back out the window into the morning. "We don't have families."

For a long time Clyde says nothing, and when Emily catches his gaze in the reflection of the windowpane she finds an answer she isn't prepared for.

"No," she shakes her head slowly, before she turns around to face him. "No one, you can't-" She stops, startled, when it dawns on her. "You watched me," she half whispers, her eyes wide.

Clyde doesn't even look ashamed. He gives a slight shrug. Arrogant as always. "I did. But you're missing the point, darling." He takes a sip from his coffee and Emily knows what he's going to say before he does.

"If I was able to find out about you and Aaron, so can Doyle. And if Doyle knows, neither Aaron nor his son are safe."

For a moment Emily can't breathe. Her world turns crimson. Dark eyes, staring back at her. _Empty._ _Dead_. Her stomach lurches and she knocks over her coffee in her haste to get up.

"I'm going to be sick," is all she manages, before she's pushing past a waitress and some customers on her way out of the diner.

 _It's too bright._

The sun is hurting her eyes as Emily staggers in the direction of the car, desperately trying to get some distance between her and everyone else. She tells herself to breathe and count to ten, _but it's too much._ She's doubled over a moment later, throwing up right there in the middle of the parking lot.

By the time Clyde leaves the diner with her forgotten coat casually drooped over his arm, she's leaning against the side of his rental car, the freezing air soothing her heated cheeks.

"Well that was quiet unexpected I have to say, but you always knew how to get my attention, don't you, darling?"

"Go to hell, Clyde."

He chuckles, but there's no humor in it. Clyde hands over her coat and Emily takes it, her eyes meeting his when their fingers brush.

"We have to stop him," she states, calm and composed. _Professional._ "I have to stop him."

Clyde is quiet for a long time. When he speaks again, _something_ has changed.

"There is no stopping him, Emily. You have to kill him to end this. Do you understand that?"

Emily nods.

"I do."

.

"Hey, I'm sorry I'm late," Emily tells her team as she rushes into the conference room.

"You okay?" Aaron asks from his place at the end of the table and Emily nods, _smiles._

"Yeah, it's just one of those weeks, I guess. I'm sorry. What did I miss?"

She tries her best to listen, but she can't follow the details of their newest case. By the time the others get up to gather their things, Emily has no idea what she's supposed to do. She gets up anyway, a blank expression on her face, but her mind reeling.

"Emily, wait."

It's Aaron who holds her back, with his hand on her elbow as soon as the others have left the room. "Are you alright?" he asks her carefully, and Emily has to resist the urge to step back. She nods.

"I'm fine, my car broke down. That's all."

Aaron doesn't look convinced and Emily can't blame him. This might have been the worst lie she ever told. He wants to say something else, but the ringing of his phone cuts him off and Emily takes the chance to slip out the door.

She spots the gift box with the cream-colored ribbon before she's even reached her desk. She'd been in such a hurry on her way into the office that she hadn't even looked in that direction, but now all she can do is stare.

There's no card and there's no need for one either. The moment she lifts the lid she knows.

It's a flower. A single lilac carefully placed in the middle of the box.

She reaches for it before she can stop herself from doing so.

"Now look at that. Our Emily got herself an admirer, huh?" Morgan jokes from behind his desk, bringing Emily back to reality. "Who is it, Prentiss? Do we know him?"

"Where did it come from," Emily asks, her voice faltering. "Who brought it up here?"

Morgan shrugs. "I don't know. Reid, did you-"

Emily glances towards Reid, watches him shake his head. "No, it was already there when I came in this morning. Why? Is something wrong?"

Instead of answering, Emily turns and leaves the bullpen. She hurries down the hallway, pushing past agents on her way without apologizing. Without knocking, Emily bursts into Garcia's office, the flower still in her hand.

"Dear lord!" Garcia shrieks, clearly startled. "Ever heard of knocking, Em?"

"I need you to show me the security footage from the bullpen. Everything from when we left last night 'till Reid arrived this morning."

Garcia looks unsure, but starts typing.

"Did Hotch send you those?" she asks as casually as Garcia can, while pointing at the velvet flower in Emily's hand.

"No," Emily shakes her head, her eyes on Garcia's screens. "Why would he send me flowers?"

"Well I just thought, when I saw you at the office yesterday, you two looked-" Garcia starts and stops. "Well, that's weird."

"What is?" Emily asks.

"There's something wrong with the footage. There must be, because something's missing and that's not possible. At five am, everything went black for about five minutes straight."

"What about the hallway? The elevator?"

Garcia shakes her head, still typing away.

"No, Emily, there's nothing there. But that's not possible; there should have been some sort of alarm. But there's nothing. I have to call Kevin, maybe I…" Garcia keeps frowning and Emily takes an involuntary step back. And then another. She looks at the screens and back at the lilac in between her fingertips.

 _Of course_ he would walk right in. He'd always been so _damn_ sure of himself.

She reaches for her phone on her way out of Garcia's office, her eyes scanning the hallways. Searching the faces of the agents around her.

Clyde takes her call after the first ring.

"He's here, Clyde," she breathes. "He's here."

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **I**

 **.**

He _fucks_ up in Boston, but he blames Emily for it.

She doesn't even flinch, despite the things he throws in her face, and he just wishes she would do something to shut him up. But she doesn't and he keeps saying things he doesn't mean, things he knows he has no right to say, things he might not be able to take back.

"I'm sorry," he tells her the next day. It doesn't seem enough, but Emily just nods. "I know," she answers. Her fingertips brush against his when she hands him a cup of coffee.

They've had cases like this before, but Kyle Murphy's murder gets under her skin. She's barely able to finish talking to his parents before she flees the room. Aaron isn't surprised when she shows up on his doorstep that night. Drunk, but beautiful and stunning all the same. Her words are slurred, but sure when she tells him that she doesn't want to have children. Not now, not ever. That she won't, that she can't. Aaron nods, but doesn't answer. An answer isn't what she wants from him anyway.

When he wakes up in the morning she's still there, sitting on the windowsill in nothing but one of his button-downs with her eyes closed and the sun kissing her face. There's a cup of coffee between her hands and a smile on her face, and Aaron thinks she's never looked more at ease.

"You should stay the night more often," he tells her later that day. He's sitting next to her on the jet, his eyes cast down on the file in front of him.

"Maybe I will," she answers quietly, her hand resting next to his under the table.

.

"We'll get him, Hotch," Morgan reminds him, even though they all know they might not find Foyet for another ten years.

"It's not your fault," Dave tries to reassure him, but Aaron knows it is. None of this would have happened if _he_ hadn't _fucked_ up in Boston.

"They're safe, Hotch," JJ promises. "We'll make sure of it."

"It won't be forever," Garcia soothes and Reid nods, his face as innocent as Jack's. "It won't be forever."

Emily says nothing. No consoling words, no sugarcoated truths, no false hope. She just keeps looking at him, with eyes that show him nothing.

"You wouldn't have believed me," she explains when he asks her. "No matter what I could've said, you wouldn't have believed me anyway."

She's sitting across from him in the dim light of his living room, looking through the files on the table. Her face is hidden behind a curtain of silky black hair, and he feels the need to reach forward and brush it away.

"Lies won't make me feel any better."

"No," she admits, and lifts her head to look at him. "They won't."

It's straightforward and it _fucking hurts_ , but it's true and all he wants to do is take her right then and there. But he can't, he hasn't touched her in weeks and he isn't sure if he'll ever be able to touch her again.

He doesn't deserve absolution. Not now, not until he gets Foyet. Not until he's able to give Haley and Jack their lives back.

But that could take him a lifetime.

Haley would never forgive him for destroying her life; Jack might not even remember his face. And Emily, Emily would never know what could have been if Foyet hadn't torn his life to pieces.

Foyet took Haley and Jack, and then without knowing he took Emily too.

 **.**

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**


	4. PART 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me! And a special thank you goes to my beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

* * *

 **.**

 **Where The Darkness Meets The Day**

 **.**

 _-"You take it from me, my boy: there is no room in this business for love." - Terrence, Legends_

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **PART 4**

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **III**

 **.**

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there sooner."

When Emily turns her head, she finds Clyde leaning against the open doors of the ambulance, watching her carefully.

She says nothing. Her head hurts and her eyes burn and there's still blood all over her clothes. She wonders where that paramedic went.

"I'm on my way back to London," Clyde tells her and climbs in next to her. "I called Loic. The CIA will take over from here."

"Is he here?"

Clyde shakes his head. "Not yet, but you know him. He'll never miss a chance to _fuck_ with the FBI."

She almost laughs.

"Aaron won't like that," she murmurs instead.

"You can say that again," Clyde chuckles. "I'll make sure he rides with you to the hospital. It's better the two of them never cross paths."

Emily nods, her eyes still fixed on her blood stained hands. The blood is not hers.

"Tell me I had no choice," she half orders, half begs. Her voice quivering dangerously. "Tell me I had to do it."

She hears him draw a breath.

"You had no choice," he tells her after a brief pause. "You did what you had to do." He steps forward, reaching for her hand despite the blood staining her pale skin.

"What if there was another way? What if-"

"There are no _what if's,_ Emily. You did what you had to do and it's over."

"I had him, Clyde, as soon as I told him the truth about Declan, I had him. There was no need-"

"He would have hurt you again the second you'd said no."

"But I didn't," she whispers. "I didn't say no."

He's quiet, but only for a moment before he cups her face between his hands to make her look at him.

"He's dead, Emily. Whatever happened tonight doesn't matter anymore."

She doesn't stop him when his fingers unclasp the gold necklace, and she watches silently as he slips it into the breast pocket of his leather jacket.

"It's time to let Lauren go."

The dizziness comes on unexpectedly and if Clyde hadn't been right in front of her she would have fallen. He catches her easily, her hands holding on to his jacket, leaving streaks of crimson.

"The adrenaline is wearing off," Clyde murmurs as if that explains everything. Maybe it does, but her head hurts too much to think. "You need to lay down."

She doesn't fight him when he pushes her back on the stretcher, gentle but firm, his lips on her forehead when he tells her goodbye.

"Take care, darling," he whispers quietly, and then he's out of her line of vision and Emily allows her eyes to flutter shut.

There's a voice she can't place and another she knows well. There's also a sharp pain in her arm and then she feels like she's floating. The ambulance starts to move, the siren comes to life and Emily winces at the piercing sound.

Someone's talking about a concussion, a ruptured eardrum and shock, and it takes Emily a long time to understand that this someone is talking about her. Someone else is whispering her name, too intimate, too familiar. And yet the only voice she desperately needs to hear.

It seems to take forever to open her eyes, but when she does she finds Aaron to her right, his eyes filled with concern and dread and _love_. Her palm in his, their fingers tangled.

"I love you," he whispers. "I love you."

If Emily hadn't been so tired, she would have told him not to.

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **II**

 **.**

He knows something is wrong the moment he looks up from his desk and finds her standing in the doorframe of his office.

"I lied," Emily starts before he even has time to ask what's going on. "I just didn't want you to worry. My car didn't break down," she continues, leaving the door open as she steps closer. "I'm not feeling well, maybe it's the flu or something. I think it might be better if I go home."

Aaron's taken aback for more than one reason.

He has no doubt that she lied to him earlier, but he also has no doubt that she's lying to him now. She does look paler than usual, and somehow nervous, but not sick.

"Do you need me to drive you?" he asks, unsure of how to handle this and slightly alarmed by how easily he can tell that she's lying.

She shakes her head, and even from behind his desk he can see her whole body tense.

"No, I'll grab a cab. I'll be fine, Hotch. And besides, you should be on your way to Louisiana already."

"I'm sure the team can manage one case without me," he answers, and ignores the fact that she just called him _Hotch_ even though they're alone.

An almost panicked look crosses her features. "There's no need for that," she tries to convince him. "Really."

"At least stay at my apartment then," Aaron suggests, deciding that now isn't the right time to discuss whatever's going on. "It's closer than yours," he elaborates. "Also Jack won't be home until Friday night, and when I come back from Louisiana I can even make you some soup."

It sounds ridiculous even to him, but that's not what seems to trouble her.

"Jack's not at home?"

"No, he's spending a few days out of town with Haley's parents."

"Did you tell me that?"

Aaron frowns. "No, it was a last-minute decision."

The utter relief washing over her face makes no sense. "Emily what-"

"I love you."

There's no saying for sure who's more surprised, him or her. She bites her lip as if to keep herself from saying anything else, and then before he has the time to react she's already fleeing his office.

"Emily, wait!" he calls after her, but by the time he's reached the door she's nowhere to be seen. The hallway in front of his office empty, except for Dave who's watching him from his own office with an expression that makes clear he heard every single word.

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **I**

 **.**

Emily Prentiss doesn't do commitment. She never has.

There are many reasons for that, reasons every therapist would love to discuss to the point of exhaustion. But Emily Prentiss has never seen a therapist to discuss her inability to have a relationship and she doesn't plan on it either.

She's too independent to get attached, too confident of herself to get fooled by sweet nothings and too smart to fall in love in the first place. Her flaws are her own, and she keeps them hidden behind a picture-perfect look and self-assurance she's never actually possessed.

 _It's all lies,_ she whispers to herself every time she catches a glimpse in the mirror. Lies, no one tells as convincingly as Emily Prentiss, but lies nevertheless.

.

As if things weren't horrible enough, Erin Strauss has to make it even worse.

Emily can see the anger boiling in his chest, the way he grabs the armrest just a little tighter on their way to New Mexico. But she knows he won't utter a word. He'll deal with it, somehow. Someday. _Maybe._

She keeps sitting next to him in the dim light of his apartment, night after night, looking through file after file, trying to find something, _anything._

The tension between them becomes thicker day-by-day, yet he's barely looking at her anymore. He's feeling guilty for everything and nothing and where a part of her understands, another doesn't.

The truth is she knows nothing. Not about love at least.

.

"I encouraged him. I flirted with him. Made it personal," Emily murmurs, her eyes fixed on the floor before lifting her gaze to meet Aaron's. "Getting intimate with a killer is so different."

"It's what we do," he tells her. His voice _almost_ too soft.

"Yeah, but there's no fixing how I feel right now, is there?"

It's the first time in weeks that he's looking at her, _really looking at her,_ and for a moment, a brief moment, she considers telling him the truth. That's she never held a desk job in her life, that she's done worse things than flirt with a killer to get the job done. That almost everything he thinks he knows about her is a _fucking lie._

But then she blinks and he does too.

"No," he answers quietly. "But it helped the case. And you did what you had to."

Everything goes straight to hell ten minutes later and she's glad she never told him the truth after all.

.

Nothing could have prepared her for the darkness she finds in his eyes the second he opens the door. For a fleeting moment, all she wants to do is run and never come back.

"What do you want?" he slurs, and Emily watches as he staggers backwards. Proof that he's just as drunk as she expected him to be.

"You called me," she answers and pushes the door closed behind her. She's scanning the room quietly, the extreme neatness of his apartment almost terrifying. The only sign of his distress is an almost empty bottle of scotch on the living room table.

"I didn't ask you to come."

"No," she admits. "But I was worried."

Aaron scoffs, stumbling towards his couch and surprisingly making it. "Worried?" he echoes, reaching for the bottle on the table. "About what?"

Emily bites her tongue to keep herself from saying something she'll regret.

"Is Jack here," she asks him instead, slowly making her way towards him.

He laughs. It sounds cold and bitter and nothing like him. It frightens her to the core.

"No. Do you think I would be drinking with my son sleeping next door?"

The truth is she has no idea anymore. _That's what grief does,_ Emily knows.

"I think it would be best if you weren't drinking at all," she tells him calmly, and reaches forward to take the bottle out of his hold in one quick move.

He's too drunk to stop her and he says nothing, only glares back at her when she settles down on the couch next to him. For a while they're both quiet, the only sound coming from the street downstairs through the open window.

"Jack needs you, Aaron."

He shakes his head. "He's fine with Jessica."

"But he needs his father."

"And who's fault is that," he whispers hoarsely, his voice laced with bitterness and regret.

"Aaron-"

He spins around so fast she can barely blink before his lips crash against hers. He grabs her roughly, his fingers digging into her skin until it hurts. The bottle slips through her hands and shatters on the floor.

His movements are unsteady and desperate, anger and guilt burning in his dark eyes when he pulls back to meet hers. "Please," he breathes against her lips. "Please, Emily, I need-"

She knows he's about to break, about to drown and there's just nothing she can say to help him. Someone else could, _JJ maybe_ , but not her, not Emily. She has no consoling words, no empty promises, no sweet nothings to whisper in his ear. The truth is, it'll never stop hurting. He'll always wake up feeling guilty for the rest of his life.

"Emily," he begs. "Please, please just-"

Instead of an actual answer, she reaches between them to open his pants; it's all she has to offer, all she has to give. The only way Emily Prentiss knows how to deal with a _darkness as dark as this._ The only way she can think of to fix _this._ Even through she knows there is no fixing _this._

He's broken beyond repair and so is she. She can't save him and he can't save her either. She should have known all along.

It's quick and rough and distant and Emily hates how _dirty_ it makes her feel. His tears mingle with hers on her heated cheeks and she's just glad he's too drunk to notice.

He falls asleep on top of her almost as soon as it's over, and Emily wonders how long it's been since he last slept. For a while she keeps lying there, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of nothing at all.

She's counted to 1345 when she can't take it any longer. She slips out from under his body, adjusting her clothes halfheartedly, before covering Aaron's sleeping form with a blanket.

As quietly as possible, she picks up the glass from the floor, not even flinching when she cuts her skin. She mops up the floor with a towel from the kitchen and looks through all the cabinets to make sure there's not another bottle hidden somewhere. In the kitchen she grabs a glass, fills it with water and searches for the painkillers when her eyes catch sight of the drawing pinned carefully on the fridge. It's been there since Aaron moved in;she's seen it before and yet she's never _really_ seen it.

It's the typical drawing of a four year old, and yet it's perfectly clear that the little figure in the middle is meant to be Jack, the one to his right Aaron and the one to his left Haley. All three of them have smiling faces, looking happy and carefree and like any family should look: _alive._

It's that drawing that makes her come undone.

She makes it to the bathroom just in time. With her hands around the rim, she heaves until there's nothing left and then, _for the first time since she was a child,_ Emily Prentiss shatters to pieces.

It's neither the time nor the place, and she barely manages to get the door shut before a sob racks her body. Followed by another and another. Tears start falling down her cheeks and there's just nothing she can do to stop. She's sobbing helplessly until she's gasping for air, but the tears keep coming and she's consumed by guilt and grief and all the things that could have been but never would.

There was no way to fix this.

They were nothing but a _fucked up tragedy._

.

 **.**

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**


	5. PART 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

 **AN:** **Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me! And a special thank you goes to my beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

* * *

 **Where The Darkness Meets The Day**

 **.**

 **.**

 _-"You take it from me, my boy: there is no room in this business for love." - Terrence, Legends_

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **PART 5**

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* * *

 **.**

 **III**

 **.**

He's sitting in the darkness of a hospital room, watching Emily sleep.

It's the first time she didn't even try to argue when the doctors told her she had to stay overnight. Maybe she'd been high on pain medication already.

She's sleeping peacefully now, her hand in his on the mattress, but an hour ago she'd been thrashing around, talking nonsense in her sleep, and Aaron finally lost it when he noticed that she was crying. It had been Dave who had gone in search for a nurse, _thankfully,_ because Aaron had been too caught up in the moment to think clearly.

 _Now he felt like an idiot._

At the sound of footsteps approaching, he looks up and finds Dave in the doorframe to Emily's hospital room.

"JJ bought some clothes before they left," he explains the shopping bag in his hand, and Aaron briefly remembers that his clothes are as ruined as Emily's.

"If they already left, what are you still doing here?"

"You're in no state to drive all the way back to DC, I will."

Too exhausted to argue, Aaron reaches for the bag and makes a mental note to give JJ the money back. "They should fit," he murmurs after a quick look, only to say something, _anything,_ to fill the silence.

Out of the corner of his eye, Aaron watches Dave reach for an empty chair and for a while they keep sitting next to each other, both lost in their own thoughts. When Aaron speaks up again he's startled by his own voice.

"They know, too, don't they?"

"After what happened on the jet?" Dave clears his throat. "I would be surprised if they didn't, Aaron."

"She won't like this," he murmurs, pinching the bridge of his nose. _That_ definitely hadn't been his best moment.

"I shouldn't have reacted the way I did," he adds. "After all, Morgan hasn't been so far off with not being sure who she is. I'm not sure I know."

"How long has this been going on between you two?" Dave wants to know and Aaron allows his eyes to rest on Emily's sleeping from. He feels a smile tug at the corners of his mouth at the memory.

"Since she walked into my office," he answers quietly. "She had me falling for her right from the start. I treated her poorly back then, I made it so hard for her because I hoped she would just quit and leave."

"She made you question your marriage."

"My marriage was already over back then, I just hadn't realized it yet. Of course nothing happened at first, but that night I got served with divorce papers-"

"This has been going on for five years?" Dave asks, bewildered.

"More or less," Aaron admits, and frowns at his own words. _Five years?_ He never-

"You did a hell of a job keeping this to yourself," Dave muses, and Aaron decides not to tell him how often they'd almost been caught. Especially that night at Dave's house, when he invited them all over for dinner and they did it in his-

"Whatever you just remembered, don't tell me," Dave, rather amused than anything else, warns, and despite everything that happened today, Aaron can't help but laugh. It takes him a moment to understand that it's what Dave wanted to accomplish.

"Rely on the things you know, Aaron, and don't dwell on those you don't," Dave tells him, before he gets back to his feet. "There's a hotel down the street, I'll go and get some rest. Otherwise neither of us will be able to drive."

Dave leaves and Aaron keeps sitting next to Emily's bed in silence, his hand still curled around hers, thinking about Dave's words.

There were things about her that he knew for certain. Those obvious things, like the fact that she could take down a suspect twice her size and her hair would still be perfectly in place afterwards. Or that she didn't like being told what to do. Or the fact that her eyes held more meaning than words ever could.

And there were those small things, things not everybody knew about her. For one, she was a picky eater, worse than Jack as a toddler, which was the main reason they avoided eating together. She loved thunderstorms and rainy days and the first snowfall in winter always made her smile. And although she was picky about them too, she had a weakness for popsicles, which explained the package of brightly colored frozen things he always kept in the back of his freezer.

 _Who said knowing those things wasn't enough?_

Maybe it was.

"Aaron?"

He blinks, watches as Emily stirs in her sleep, her eyelids fluttering.

"I'm here," he murmurs, and without thinking he pulls her gently into his arms and slips into the small hospital bed. She mumbles something unintelligible before she becomes silent again, her head resting against his chest.

And with Emily safe and sound in his arms, Aaron allows himself to close his eyes for the first time in twenty-four hours.

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **II**

 **.**

"I love you."

The words tumble over her lips as easily as if she has said them a million times before. But the truth is, she never has.

She flees his office without looking back. He calls after her, but by the time he's reached the door she's already left the bullpen.

She heads for the stairs instead the elevator, Clyde's words still ringing in her ears. _"Doyle must have contacts in the FBI, you can't trust anyone anymore. Stop talking and get the hell out of there, Emily!"_

She'd never heard him sound so frantic. _He was right though, wasn't he?_ She couldn't trust anyone anymore. She shouldn't. _Not even him._

But she didn't, _couldn't_ believe that one of her team, _or Clyde_ , had something to do with this. But someone did.

She thinks she hears someone call her name, but she doesn't stop, doesn't turn around. She takes two steps at a time, heading directly for the underground parking lot. She makes her way through the dimly lit place, looking left and right as she goes, scanning the shadows.

Maybe she won't even make it out of here.

She unlocks her car as she goes, almost expecting it to blow up right in front of her. It doesn't.

In one smooth move, Emily slips into the driver's seat of her car and pulls the door shut behind her, before she takes a breathe. It's when she notices the scent of gunpowder and bourbon and _him._

She hears the soft click of the safety lock first, meets his blue eyes in the rearview mirror second. The barrel of his gun carefully placed against her temple.

"Hello, Lauren. Oh, wait." He gives her a mocking smile. "Lauren Reynolds died in a car accident, didn't she?"

"What do you want?"

"You." He bends forward and closer until she can feel his breath against her skin. "Not today, though. Don't worry, love. But soon."

"Drive," he orders one heartbeat later, and Emily watches him lower his gun with steady hands. He waits until she starts the car before he tells her the address. She's not surprised to hear her own.

"A really nice place you got yourself there, there's so much space, so many rooms. Enough for a family, yet you live all alone. You don't even have a cat."

She keeps her eyes on the road and her hands tight around the steering wheel while she considers driving the car off the road and crashing it against a bridge pillar, but there's too much traffic and she knows she can't do it without risking the lives of innocent others.

"Don't even think about it, love."

She meets Ian's gaze in the rearview mirror again, the smile on his face all twisted and wrong.

"Why not?"

"If Liam doesn't hear back from me in an hour, he'll take your team out. One by one. He'll start with the blonde who's sitting in her office right now, desperately trying to figure out what went wrong with the security system."

"Come near my team and I will end you." It's nothing but an idle threat, _he's the one pointing a gun at her back_ , but she has to say it. For herself. _For them._

Ian chuckles, his piercing blue eyes tearing her apart. "I don't have a quarrel with them, but how long that remains the case depends entirely on you, love. They're innocent, you are not."

"I was doing my job."

"I think you did a little more than that." He bends forward and she has to bite her tongue to keep herself from flinching when she feels his finger trail down the side of her neck in an almost tender gesture.

"You took the only thing that mattered to me," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper and yet it feels like he's shouting. "So I'm going to take the only thing that matters to you."

"And what would that be?" Emily can't help but ask.

"That's what I'm still trying to figure out, love." The amusement in Ian's voice sends shivers down her spine.

She breaks his gaze to steer her car down into the underground parking garage of her apartment building, parks as far away from any security camera as possible, although it's not even her spot.

"Tell me, Emily," Ian whispers, and her name out of his mouth sounds like a four-letter word.

"Do you love him?"

"Who?" she asks, even though she knows.

"Aaron, I'm talking about Aaron," he teases and Emily feels his gun, slowly making it's way up until it comes to a rest against her temple once more. Her eyes searching his in the rearview mirror and she can't stop thinking: _I did this._

"Tell me, Emily, do you love him? Do you love his son? Did you plan to raise poor motherless Jack like your own? Or was this just another game of play pretend? Were you just doing your job? Did you plan to tear his heart out too?"

She says nothing. There's nothing to say.

"Tell me, Emily Prentiss, are you even capable of love?"

 _No_ , she thinks. _I'm not._ But she stays quiet; he doesn't care about her answer anyway.

"I'll tell you what, love. We're going back, back where it all started. It should end there, too, don't you think?"

"And my team?"

"I told you, this is between us. As long as you do as I say, there's nothing for you to worry about."

She has no reason to believe him and she doesn't.

"What's going to stop me from taking you and your men out first?"

"Oh, love." Ian shakes his head, his blue eyes glistening dangerously when he gives her a crooked smile. "Do you really believe that you could?"

.

"He wants you to come to Boston with him?"

Emily nods. "He wants me to meet him in that Irish pub where Fahey first introduced us. It's where it all started-"

"And it'll be exactly where it ends," Clyde finishes. He's sitting next to her in his rental car, a different one than this morning.

"You played him once," he adds. His words strained, but his face a mask of calm. "Just do it again. Make him believe that you loved him. Not Lauren, but Emily. Tell him the truth about Declan, that he's alive, that you kept him hidden and that you only did it for him. Tell him you still love him after all."

Emily swallows. Shakes her head. "He'll never believe me."

"He will. If you do it right, he will. At least long enough for you to get the upper hand, and that is all you need."

"What about his men? I have to get past them first. He's not working alone, there are too many."

Clyde shakes his head. "I made a few calls, it's already taken care of. Just make sure you're nowhere near the first car." He pushes a small device in her hand, along with a burner phone. "All you have to do is hit that button." He points and Emily stares.

"How-" she starts and stops. She doesn't want to know.

"There's a black Lexus waiting for you just down the street from here. The car will be open, the keys left in the glove compartment, along with an unregistered gun and an address. If you need anything else or if anything goes wrong, go there."

She nods, her eyes fixed on the phone in her hands. If anything goes wrong, this might be the last time they talk.

"I need you to stall my team," she demands. "Keep as much as possible to yourself. There's no need for them to know the whole truth."

"You mean Aaron." There's an accusation in his voice that makes her uncomfortable. She briefly shuts her eyes before she lifts her head to look at him.

"If you have to hear me say it, Clyde, then yes, I want you to keep the truth from Aaron. Hold him back as long as possible. Do whatever it takes."

"You ignored the only advice I ever gave you, didn't you?"

"What does it matter anymore, Clyde? When this is over, nothing will ever be the same."

He doesn't answer, but the silence between them speaks volumes. _It always has_ , Emily thinks.

"Stay alive, darling," he whispers, and she feels his fingers brush against her cheek, a million unsaid things passing in the blink of an eye.

She nods. "I will."

It doesn't sound much like a promise.

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **I**

 **.**

When he wakes up on his couch, his clothes wrinkled and his pants open, _feeling like shit,_ Aaron Hotchner pretends it's only because of that bottle of scotch he opened last night.

He pretends not to notice the traces of mascara on the couch cushions, or the lipstick smears on his button-down, or the scent of her perfume that lingers unmistakably in his living room.

When he stumbles to his feet, only to make it halfway to his bathroom before he has to throw up, he reminds himself it's just because he's hungover.

He pretends he left the glass of water on the kitchen counter when he goes in search of a rag to clean up the floor and ignores the sound of her heartbreaking sobs that keep replaying in his mind over and over and over again.

He can't bear another thing to feel guilty about.

 _He needs to forget._

By the time Aaron slips behind the steering wheel of his car to go and pick up Jack from Jessica's, his hair is still wet from the shower.

.

"I'm sorry," he tells her.

It's his first day back at work and he hasn't seen her since _that_ night in his apartment.

"There's nothing you have to apologize for."

Her words sound all wrong and they are. Along with the emptiness in her eyes.

"Of course there is, Emily."

She doesn't look back at him on her way out of his office.

.

In Lockport she almost gets killed, _twice._

And Aaron knows that he can't keep working like this. Can't keep working with _her,_ and he breaks and shatters without anyone knowing because he hides it behind that stoic face he hates even more than he hates himself these days.

She looks all beautiful and stunning, even battered and broken, and she doesn't even think about taking it slow. She's Emily _fucking_ Prentiss and she's going to finish the case even with a concussion.

He calls Strauss, ready to beg for that offer she made him. Ready to become a stay-at-home dad and start coaching little league or whatever normal parents do, but she doesn't pick up, and he's barely able to keep himself from breaking his phone.

On their way back to DC, Emily's fingers brush against his accidentally when he hands her a cup of coffee, and it's all it takes to make him spill the words: "I can't lose you, too."

Their case in Miami is a mess, the man on a killing spree and they can't even figure out his real name.

"I don't understand how he managed to keep track of this many identities," Morgan wonders and Reid shrugs. "He couldn't."

There's a longing in Emily's eyes Aaron's never seen before, and her words don't make any sense to him when she murmurs so softly, he's sure he isn't even meant to hear: "God, how much I miss this."

In Ashburn they work together, _playing good cop bad cop,_ all stormy eyes and yelling at each other to get something out of that woman. Another game of play pretend and Aaron despises every second of it.

He's done lying, done playing, done pretending. _Life is too short. Too precious._

And he _fucking_ loves her, regardless of if he likes to admit it or not.

.

Los Angeles brings a new case, a change in the weather, and a change in his demeanor.

He doesn't like Rawson right from the start. He can't stand the way he looks at Emily without even trying to hide his intentions, or the outright flirting, or the way Emily smiles back at him. Smiling like she hasn't smiled in such a long time that Aaron doesn't remember her smile in the first place.

In the end Rawson happens to save Emily's life, and Aaron's glad he'd been looking at her after all. Yet, the way Emily flirts back at him makes him furious in a way he has no right to ponder, and that's entirely new to him.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" he asks, and makes sure he gives her a glare, leaving no room to argue. She frowns, but nods and follows him out of the building. She's not one to cause a scene.

"Did I-"

Whatever she wanted to say is lost when his hands grab her hips, pulling her close and closer until his lips find hers and everything blurs.

"Jealous?" she smirks against his lips, _somewhat later,_ breathless and with her fingers curled around the collar of his button-down.

"You have no idea," he growls, and reaches for her hand to pull her with him, deeper into the shadows of the alleyway. He pushes her back against the brick wall, hoists her up with ease and a burning need he knows only Emily will be able to soothe.

 _This is who we are_ , he thinks. _The way we've always been._ They might be lost and broken and stripped down to the darkest part of their souls. But when their bodies become one for a heartbeat of pure bliss, _they fit together just right._

There's a challenging look in her eyes when she bends closer, and Aaron is equally amazed and terrified by how much she tells him with nothing more than a blink.

"Show me," she breathes against his lips.

Falling back into old patterns never tasted so sweet.

 **.**

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* * *

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**


	6. PART 6

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me! And a special thank you goes to my beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

* * *

 **.**

 **Where The Darkness Meets The Day**

 **.**

 **.**

 _-"You take it from me, my boy: there is no room in this business for love." - Terrence, Legends_

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **PART 6**

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **III**

 **.**

The drive back to DC is quiet. The silence suffocating, just like the sadness Emily isn't able to suppress.

She's sitting in the backseat alone, looking out into the rain and trying to ignore the way Aaron keeps glancing back at her from time to time. She can't help but regret her decision to deny herself more painkillers.

She'd wanted a clear head to think, to figure out how to go on from here, but maybe now isn't the right time for that. The pain behind her eyes is making it impossible to think anyway. Her ears keep ringing and even though she's sitting, she feels dizzy.

She makes it through another fifteen minutes before she gives up. With trembling fingers, she reaches for the package of painkillers she hastily shoved in the pocket of her ruined jacket and takes four pills at once, gulps them down dryly and ignores the horrible taste they leave in her mouth.

It doesn't take long for them to kick in, and half an hour later Emily's feeling all fuzzyheaded and sleepy. With her head against the window she drifts off, _blissfully unaware_ of the way Aaron keeps watching her from the passenger seat.

"Emily."

It's a hand on her arm that makes her eyes snap open instantly. For a moment she's completely disoriented, reaching for her gun out of habit, aghast when she finds it gone.

"Emily, it's me, Aaron."

She blinks.

"I'm sorry, Emily. I didn't want to startle you."

She blinks again, and it takes her a while to take in her surroundings.

"Where are we?" she asks, her voice thick with sleep and somehow slurred.

"In front of your apartment building," Aaron tells her from where he's standing in the open car door. He reaches for her hand and Emily takes it, allows him to help her out of the car. It's still raining, the sky over Washington dark and grey, and they're both soaked in seconds.

"You think you can walk?" Aaron asks, his voice raised to be heard over the rain. Emily nods, even though she's not sure. How long did she sleep? _Six hours? Seven?_

Aaron keeps talking, but not to her, to Rossi who's watching them both with a worried expression from behind the steering wheel. Emily wonders why he looks so concerned, when her legs give out from under her and everything blurs. Aaron catches her with his arm slung around her waist, steadying her body with his.

She wants to say something, but she can't, suddenly afraid she might throw up if she does. She shuts her eyes, her face resting against his chest, willing the world to stop spinning.

The way up to her apartment seems to take forever, and when they finally reach her door she's barely able to stand, even with Aaron already holding most of her weight. To her surprise, he has her keys ready, unlocking the door with his free hand.

"Where did you get those?" she murmurs, her fingers curled around his arm in a tight grip.

"You left them in your car."

"You broke into my car?"

"No, you didn't lock it."

Emily's frown deepens when her alarm system stays silent.

"You searched my apartment," she states the second they step into her living room. Knows she didn't leave the files and pictures on the table or the passports on the floor.

"You were missing, Emily." His voice sounds off, strained, as if he's holding back what he really wants to say.

He walks her to the bathroom, helps her sit down on the floor with her back against the bathtub.

"You need to get out of those clothes," he states matter-of-factly, and she watches as he reaches for a towel to pull around her trembling body.

"You, too," she murmurs. "Is Rossi waiting for you?"

"No," Aaron shakes his head. "You don't really think I'll leave you alone, do you? Dave's already on his way to my apartment to get me some clothes."

"You don't have to-" Emily starts and stops, a wave of nausea making her stomach churn and her head spin. She presses her eyes shut, tells herself to breathe, trying to prolong the inevitable.

"Emily?"

"You should go," she whispers, and she hates how weak and whiny she sounds. This isn't her. She can't deal with this, _or him,_ not right now. She doesn't deserve his forgiveness or his compassion or his love. She doesn't deserve him. She never has. And she really needs him to go.

She feels his hand brush back her wet hair. Soft and intimate. "No, Emily, let me-"

 _It's too much._

And she just can't.

"I don't need you to hold back my _fucking_ hair," she presses between clenched teeth. "I'm not your _wife_ , I'm not _Haley_."

He winces, his hand disappears, and Emily's glad her eyes are still closed, glad she doesn't have to see the pain in his eyes.

There's no apology for what she just did. She's not even sure why she said _that_ of all things, but she doesn't have the time to think about it either, because she's already stumbling forward, barely making it to the toilet in time before she starts to retch.

He gets up and Emily feels tears start to blur her vision when the door falls closed behind him. But it's not until later, when she's in the shower, _her skin scrubbed raw_ , that she finally allows herself to cry.

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **II**

 **.**

"Where's Prentiss?"

"She's not coming with us."

"What do you mean she's not coming with us?"

"What I just said, Morgan. She's not feeling well; I sent her home. Can we start?"

"Emily doesn't get sick," Reid interjects from his seat across the aisle. "Not once in five-"

"She is now," Aaron cuts him off. Not in the mood to drag this out. "So lets get started."

He ignores the confused looks from his team while he stares down at the case file in his hands, begging his mind to stop reeling.

By the time he'd made it down to the parking garage, her car was gone and she wasn't answering her phone. Something was _alarmingly wrong,_ but he didn't have the time to think about it right now.

He'd told Garcia to try and get a hold of Emily. To his surprise, she hadn't even asked him why, only told him she'd had to fix something on the security system first.

"Aaron, are you listening?"

He blinks, frowns when he finds not only Dave but Morgan, Reid and Seaver staring at him, too.

This was getting out of hand.

He excuses himself and heads for the bathroom at the other end of the jet, trying to gather some control. He has to focus on this case, _his work_ , and stop thinking about everything else. Stop thinking about _her._

She was affecting his work. Had been affecting his work for quite a while now and he knows he has to do something, soon. Before he loses more than just his job.

.

"You couldn't reach her?"

"No, she's not answering the landline and she left her cell at the office."

Aaron frowns, pressing his phone against his ear.

"She left her phone at the office?" he echoes, not sure if he heard her right.

"Yes, I found her badge and her gun, too. She left them in her desk drawer. She didn't even take her bag or her coat. Just her keys."

"Did you look up the security footage? Did she leave the building by herself?"

"Like I said, sir, there's someone messing with the security system. She took the staircase down to the parking garage, after that-"

"Wait." Aaron cuts her off, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The security system isn't working?"

"It's working, there are just certain things missing. Emily came into my office this morning because she wanted to know who left those flowers on her desk."

"What flowers?"

"I thought-" Garcia stops. "Well, someone left flowers on her desk, but I couldn't tell her who it was because it happened when the system stopped working. The same thing happened when she left the staircase to- " Garcia stops again. "Oh my, maybe..."

"Do you have any idea who's messing with the system?"

"Not yet, but it looks like it's someone in the building. Do you think this has something to do with Emily?"

"I hope not. Call me as soon as anything comes up."

He hangs up without waiting for Garcia's reply. When he turns around, he finds Dave watching him.

"Everything alright?"

"No," Aaron shakes his head. "I'm afraid not."

.

When Garcia calls him again, she sounds frantic.

"Sir, there's someone from Interpol waiting in your office. He says he needs to talk to you. It's about Emily."

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **I**

 **.**

Whatever this thing between them had been before, it's spinning out of control now.

" _Fuck_ , fraternization rules," Aaron growls into her ear and walks her backwards against the wall of his office. Neither of them considering the fact that it's broad daylight and everyone heard him calling her into his office.

The only reason no one gets suspicious is because he started working behind closed blinds weeks ago.

In Franklin, Emily has him straddled on her bed, while JJ takes a shower. It's reckless and stupid and _borderline insane_. But it's finally a good thing that JJ always occupies the bathroom far too long.

Aaron's just about to slip out the door when Garcia starts screaming for help.

They're in the FBI parking garage only a few days later, snuck off in the middle of a work day.

"Someone will see us," Emily warns him, her eyes fluttering shut against her will while Aaron urges her down on the backseat of her car. "We shouldn't, not in…"

He murmurs something unintelligible from between her legs and she's _so close, so damn close,_ that she can't bring herself to care about who might see them or not.

Rossi invites the team over for dinner and it's Emily who offers to do the dishes, not surprised when Aaron follows suit. She's seen the way he was undressing her with his eyes the second she came through the front door.

"We can't do it here," she whispers against his lips, the dishes long forgotten, his fingers tangled in her hair, tugging gently at the dark strands.

"I'm sure Dave wouldn't mind," he murmurs, and Emily feels his lips making their way down the side of her neck.

"No, Aaron, we can't-" she starts, but leans into him anyway when his right hand slips under her dress.

"I'll be quick," he promises, his voice thick with lust and need and his fingers find just the right spot to make her surrender.

They're just done rearranging their clothes a couple of minutes later, when Reid comes looking for them. And they're both lucky it's _just Reid,_ because everyone else would have noticed the unmistakable afterglow on their faces.

They're playing with fire, Emily knows, but getting burned never seemed more tempting than it does now.

.

"Maybe they're a reflection," Rossi murmurs, reaching for the remote. "Remember what he did at the end of the video?"

"He wiped the tear away," Emily says, her eyes fixed on the screen. Rossi nods.

"Another act of compassion he's not capable of. His narcissism prevents him from that."

"In the Greek myth, Narcissus was so self-absorbed that he fell in love with his own reflection in the water," Reid points out, and Rossi nods, gestures toward the screen.

"Exactly, he finds women with the same face. He strangles them and then stares at them after they've died. But whose image does he really see?"

"His own," Reid states.

"You alright?" Aaron asks her later on their way back to Quantico.

"Sure," Emily answers, turning her head to meet his gaze from where she's sitting across from him. "Why wouldn't-" she stops, startled when she finds herself reflected in the dark depths of his eyes.

.

"In fact, Maryann and I have a, uh, little secret system we worked out," James murmurs, and Emily fights the urge to close her eyes, knows she messed up.

"You want to know what that is?" James asks, and bends forward, his gun pointed at her from under the counter. "I always choose husbands for her," he drawls, his gaze locked with hers. "Never boyfriends. I don't know you. And you don't know me."

She knows he's going to shoot her, knows that she has to shoot him first or she's going to die. Her fingers are curled around the trigger of her gun so tight they start to hurt. And suddenly she isn't sure if she should pull the trigger at all. _What's the damn point?_

Out of the corner of her eye she spots Aaron, and before she really knows what she's doing, James stumbles backwards, falls. Blood seeping from where her bullet found his heart.

"Did you hesitate?" Aaron wants to know on their flight back. He has her cornered in the small space in front of the bathroom. His face stern, giving nothing away, and Emily feels the childish need to scream.

"Answer me," he demands. "Did you hesitate?"

"What if I did," she taunts, her voice filled with bitterness. "What would it change?"

She hates herself for the way she enjoys the flicker of hurt in his eyes.

.

"We should go out for dinner some time."

"Why?" Emily asks, without lifting her head to look at him. They're lying next to each other in the darkness of his bedroom, their naked bodies tangled between the sheets.

"Because that's what couples do," he answers, his fingers running through her hair absently.

"We're not a couple, Aaron."

"Then what are we?"

"I'll tell you when I know," Emily murmurs, wishing the way he keeps caressing her hair wouldn't make her feel so comfortable. It gets quiet, and when he speaks again his voice is so soft she almost misses it.

"What if I want us to be a couple?"

Instead of giving him an answer, Emily pretends she's already fallen asleep.

.

Emily stands in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in her hands, watching the grey sky over Washington turn pink.

"You're up early," Aaron murmurs, and a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth when he slips his arms around her waist to pull her close.

"I'm glad you're still here," he whispers against her ear. "I wish you stayed the night more often."

Emily doesn't answer. The truth is that she didn't intend to stay, she simply overslept. But there's no need to tell him that. She closes her eyes and leans back into his embrace, savoring those last few moments together.

"I'm going to take Jack to the zoo this Sunday," Aaron tells her, his head resting atop of hers while meeting her gaze in the reflection of the windowpane. "Do you want to come with us?"

The question catches her by surprise.

"I'm sorry?" she says, her heart speeding up.

Aaron gives her a smile. "I just thought it would be nice to spend some time together, nothing more."

"Aaron-" she starts, not sure what else to say, and suddenly she's overwhelmed by the memory of a blonde little boy, laughing, telling her to push him higher on the swing.

The coffee cup slips from her fingers and shatters on the floor, ripping the silence apart. For a second they both freeze.

"Daddy?"

Emily has to bite her lip to keep from cursing, horribly aware that all she's wearing is one of Aaron's button downs.

Aaron is the first one to recover, making his way out of the kitchen while Emily takes a few steps back, praying Jack won't spot her.

"What was that noise, daddy?" She hears the boy's voice from the living room, heavy with sleep. "Did you break something?"

"Yeah, just a coffee mug, buddy. Let's go back to bed, it's much too early for you to be up already." Aaron keeps talking, but Emily doesn't catch the rest because he carries Jack back to his room.

For a moment Emily just stands there, mesmerized by the memory of a little boy with eyes as blue as the sky. A boy she loved more than she ever thought she would be able to love someone.

She can't do this again. She can't.

 _Not even for him._

By the time Aaron comes back into the kitchen, she's already left his apartment. Haunted by the realization that no matter how far she runs, she'll never be able to outrun her past.

.

It's not even two am when Emily slips out of his bed, unable to sustain the need to leave any longer.

She tries her best to be quiet while she gathers her clothes from where they're scattered all over the floor, hoping he won't wake up. She briefly thinks about leaving him a note, but then she never has. _Why start now?_

She gets dressed in the dark, the only light coming from the streetlight outside. The only sound in the room the soft drum of the rain against the windowpane and the rustle of her clothing.

The moment she steps toward the door she hears his voice from the bed behind her.

"Where are you going?" Aaron asks, sounding wide-awake, and Emily wonders how long he's been watching her in silence.

"Home," she answers, and forces herself to smile before she turns around to face him. "I can't show up at the office with the same clothes two days in a row."

It sounds like a valid argument, but of course it's not. It's a feeble excuse and they both know it.

"I'll see you at the office," Emily says, and turns, hopes he'll let it slide. He doesn't.

"I love you."

She stops with her hand around the door handle, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turn white.

 _No._

"I love you, Emily." His voice is warm and soft and honest. He means it, Emily can tell. She closes her eyes, takes a breath. Shakes her head.

 _There's no greater burden in life than love._

She leaves without saying a word.

 **.**

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**


	7. PART 7

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader the wonderful** **greeneyedconstellations** **!**

* * *

 **Where The Darkness Meets The Day**

 **.**

 _-"You take it from me, my boy: there is no room in this business for love." - Terrence, Legends_

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **PART 7**

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* * *

 **.**

 **III**

 **.**

With a cup of coffee in his hands, Aaron stands in the kitchen looking out the window and into the rain. He's exhausted and a part of him wants nothing more than to leave. But he doesn't. _He can't._ Not like this.

He takes another sip of his coffee, even though it's since gone cold and shuts his eyes, wishing he knew how to fix this, wishing he could pretend nothing ever happened in the first place.

But it did.

"Rossi's already been here?"

Startled, Aaron opens his eyes, just in time to meet Emily's in the reflection of the windowpane. She's standing in the doorframe, calm and composed, with her arms crossed over her chest. Dressed in a black pantsuit, her makeup perfectly applied to cover up her injuries. There's not a single hair out of place and he's not surprised. In fact, it's exactly what he expected.

"He brought coffee and food," Aaron answers, pointing unnecessarily at the bags on the kitchen table. "You should try to eat something."

"I will," she tells him without breaking their gaze, her voice warm and soft even from across the room. "You don't have to stay," she adds, and offers him a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I'm fine."

He feels the sudden urge to grab her. "Yeah," he murmurs, unable to hide his frustration. "I guess you made that pretty clear." He turns around to face her, watching as she bites her lip. She almost looks guilty.

"I'm sorry, Aaron, I shouldn't have said-"

"But you're right," he cuts her off mid-sentence, and holds his cup just a little tighter between his hands. "You don't need anyone. You never did."

It was ironic that what made him fall for her in the first place, the fact that she didn't need him at all, was tearing them apart just now.

"What do you want me to say?"

He shrugs. "How about the truth?"

Emily shakes her head. "You already know more than you should."

"Let me guess," Aaron muses, and he can't stand how bitter he sounds. "It's classified, right?"

"Aaron."

"I can't pretend this never happened, Emily!"

"I know," she answers quietly.

"Emily-" he starts, and stops. She gives him a sad smile and he knows that's it. It's over and she's only waiting for the final blow. Only waiting for him to destroy whatever they had.

He doesn't though. _He can't._ And the way her eyes search his own makes him wonder if she knew that all along. It's she who turns away first and he shuts his eyes in defeat, listening to her footsteps disappear down the hallway.

When he follows her a while later and finds her in her bedroom, standing in front of the window with her arms still crossed over her chest, it's dark; only the faint light from outside now illuminating her pale face.

"It's snowing."

He steps up behind her, to follow her gaze, not surprised when he sees that the rain has turned into white, puffy flakes.

"Rossi said it would," he states, and slips his arm around her waist. She doesn't fight him, but gives in instantly. She's smiling, her dark eyes glistening.

"Rossi's knees predict the weather again?" There's laughter in her voice and Aaron chuckles.

"He's always right," he reminds her with a shrug, before pulling her closer against his chest to bury his face in her hair. She lets him, and he feels her warm hands come to rest right over his.

"It means that it's time for a change," Emily whispers.

"Snow in March?" Aaron murmurs and he can't stop thinking that this feels too much like goodbye.

Emily nods and when she turns to face him, all he sees is himself reflected in the dark depths of her eyes. Not the way he sees himself when he looks in the mirror, but the way she sees him.

"Not everything was a lie," she breathes against his lips. "I need you to remember that."

When they kiss, there's nothing gentle about it. But then, there never was.

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **II**

 **.**

She stops being SSA Emily Prentiss somewhere between Washington and Boston. There's no room for her and her feelings, no room for her hopes and dreams and her useless morals. She becomes _Emily_ again. The woman she let go of when she stopped working for the CIA.

In Boston it's raining; the air is raw and crisp when she steps out of her car and she is ready to end what she should have ended seven years ago.

The Irish pub looks just like she remembers, even though it doesn't seem to be the well-frequented place it used to be. She feels the man behind the counter watching her every move while she makes her way through the room and she wonders if he's one of _Clyde's_ or one of _Ian's._

She sits down at a table at the end of the pub and finds herself startled when she realizes it's the same table she'd been sitting at when she met Ian for the first time.

 _No,_ not her. Not Emily. _Lauren_.

Ian steps into the pub ten minutes later, his blue eyes finding hers from across the room and for a moment, _a brief moment,_ Emily wishes she didn't have to do this.

She watches him come closer, his gaze never wavering, and with each step he takes toward her, she wishes she could take one back. But she doesn't move, doesn't even blink.

He stays quiet for a long time and when he finally starts talking he's not talking to her, but to the man hovering right behind her. "Take her."

Liam doesn't even try to hide how much he enjoys patting her down; he does it twice, just for the hell of it, taking away her gun and her phone.

"I always knew you were too good to be true," he sneers into her ear, while he cuffs her hands tightly behind her back and shoves her next to Ian in the backseat of the black SUV.

The drive is quiet. Ian is staring out the window while Liam keeps watching her from the passenger's seat with his gun pointed directly at her forehead. A second man is driving, a boy, who looks more innocent than Reid.

"I have to tell you something," Emily states as soon as the building comes into sight, and she wonders if Ian even knows how predictable he's become. But then, this isn't about making a good deal. It's about revenge. And maybe something else.

Ian laughs, but there's no humor in it. He turns towards her, contempt filling his cold blue eyes. "I promise there will be time for your last confession, love."

He surprises her by reaching over and brushing away the fabric of her jacket, a crooked smile on his face when he reveals the golden necklace.

"I spent seven years in hell because of that ring," he muses, eyes finding hers. "I'll think it's time you get a taste of it."

Emily stares back at him, unblinking, ignoring the way his fingers keep trailing down her cleavage, while their car slows to a stop behind the first one parked in front of the warehouse. "I have to talk to you, Ian," she says again, more determined this time. "It's important."

"Important?" he chuckles, his brows raised mockingly. "You don't believe I'd fall for your pretty face again, do you?" Suddenly he's _awfully close_ and before she can do anything his hand slips inside the waistband of her pants and deeper and-

Her breath gets stuck in her throat. Ian smirks. It's the most devilish smirk she's ever seen and just like that Emily knows she has him.

"Tell your men to get out," she demands, her lips almost touching his. She lifts her hips slightly, allowing his hand to slip deeper and under the fabric of-

Her eyelids flutter shut.

"You heard her," Ian murmurs, and there's something familiar in his voice, something she missed painfully. "Leave us alone."

"Come on, Boss, not again, this is-"

"Get out, Liam."

There's finality in Ian's voice and Emily has to fight back a laugh. She hears Liam curse under his breath before the door falls shut, knows if he had anything to say she would be dead by now.

The driver follows suit and Emily opens her eyes just in time to meet his in the rearview mirror. He gives her the slightest hint of a nod and Emily blinks. _Three minutes._ That all she got.

"Just so you know," Ian tells her almost lovingly, when they're alone. His voice thick with lust, his fingers keep moving. "There's nothing you can say _or_ do to change my mind. You're still going to die."

Before she can utter a word, Ian finds just the _right_ spot, sending her over the edge with ease, and Emily has to bite her lip to keep herself from making a sound. He shouldn't make her feel like _this_. _This_ shouldn't make her feel _anything_. But it does.

"Now, love," Ian chuckles, and withdraws his hand slowly. "Talk, humor me." He leans back in his seat, his face all smug and handsome and Emily can't wait to wipe that grin off his face.

"Declan is alive," she starts without hesitation, her voice slow and steady, even though she's still the slightest bit breathless. "Those pictures they showed you, they were staged."

Ian's face turns to stone.

"I know because I'm the one who staged it," she says, and watches as he goes still. Completely still. "I'm the one holding the gun."

"He's alive?" Ian echoes. His eyes ablaze with fury and disbelief and then before she even has the time to blink, he hits her. Her head flies backward and hits the window with a sickening sound.

"There's a picture in my jacket pocket," Emily croaks, and swallows. "It was taken after a soccer game two weeks ago." She rights herself on the seat, fighting against the nausea.

"His team won," she adds, and watches as he finally pulls the photograph out of her jacket. There are a million different emotions written all over his face, and Emily thinks that she's never seen him more human.

"How-" he starts, looking down at the picture of the blonde boy smiling happily at the camera. The boy's blue eyes the same as Ian's.

"Why would you do that?" Ian asks, turning his head slightly to stare at her. "Why would you keep him safe? He doesn't mean anything to you!"

He sounds angry, but also truly confused. Emily can't blame him.

"I did it for you," she whispers, meeting his gaze. "I did it for us."

She knows what's going to happen before he does. One moment he's glaring at her, the next he shoves her backward against the door with so much force that at first there's nothing but pain. She doesn't fight him when he rips open her blouse and she doesn't keep him from pushing her pants down her hips either. _She could,_ but she doesn't. And in the darkness it's so easy to forget who she is, so easy to become _Lauren_ all over again.

He unlocks the handcuffs before he grabs her again, even rougher this time, his lips bruising her skin while he forces her down on the seat. She bites her lip to keep herself quiet, but this time it's useless and her body gives her away anyway, showing him exactly how much she's been longing for this. And she has. No matter what kind of awful person that makes her.

She stops thinking. She's not Emily any longer, she's _Lauren_. She tells herself that she has to, that there's no other way to make him give up his defenses. But that's a _fucked up_ lie and she _damn_ well knows it. She's nothing but a _selfish liar,_ she's never been anything else and this is only for herself.

Ian has her toppling over the edge again and she's still gasping for air when he murmurs: _"I think I might not kill you after all, "_ right against her ear before he falls straight into oblivion.

There's no time to hesitate.

 _He never even sees it coming._

Without thinking, Emily reaches for his gun. The car in front of them explodes the second Emily pulls the trigger and everything interrupts into light. What follows is a painful ringing in her ears and the taste of blood on her tongue. The weight of Ian's body crushing hers.

Emily watches as his eyes go wide in surprise and pain and disbelief, as he tries to pull away from her. But it's futile.

"You-" is all he manages before blood spills out of his mouth, staining her ripped clothes and Emily finds herself thinking that she couldn't have planned this any better.

"See you in hell," she promises, before she pulls the trigger one last time.

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **I**

 **.**

"I love you."

Once he says it, there's no taking it back. And he wants to say it again and again and again.

 _I love you. I love you. I love you._

"I love you, Emily."

But instead of an answer, she just turns and leaves.

.

"I won't come over for a while," Emily tells him in the morning. They're sitting in the conference room, waiting for the others to arrive.

"Is this about last night? About what-"

"No," she interrupts him. Her voice gentle, but firm. Her eyes focused on the cup of coffee between her hands. "I just…" She bites her lip.

"It's about Jack," Aaron states, and Emily's silence is enough to prove him right. He leans back in his chair.

"You knew I had a son," he adds after a pause. "You knew what you-"

"No, Aaron." She shakes her head, and when she looks up her eyes are full of pain. "You were a weekend dad, and hardly even that. I never-" She stops and he watches her close her eyes.

This time he says nothing.

.

On Jack's birthday there's a package delivered to his doorstep, thoughtfully wrapped and even through the card only reads _Jack_ in an unfamiliar handwriting, Aaron knows it's from Emily.

Jack, like any other kid his age, doesn't bother much with asking whom it's from, especially not after he's torn the paper away. He's squealing with joy, his eyes glistening with happiness while he's waving the shiny black toy car in Aaron's direction.

It was the _one_ thing Jack so desperately wanted to have and the _one_ thing Aaron hadn't been able to find _anywhere._

But she had.

"Thank you," he tells her when he places a plate with a piece of Jack's birthday cake on her desk. "I haven't seen him this happy in a long time."

Emily stays quiet, doesn't even look up, and Aaron pretends not to notice when she passes the cake over to Morgan.

.

"What are we doing here," is what he asks her in Nashville. They're at a crime scene, standing next to each other and staring down at the dead woman on the ground. It's neither the time nor the place to discuss their private disaster, but he needs to know. And there's never a _right_ time.

"Trying to survive," is what she answers, clearly avoiding his gaze. He can't tell if she's talking about the case or about them, but maybe she can't tell either.

Maybe it's the same.

.

For her birthday he takes her to Vegas like he's been doing for years.

In Vegas her name isn't Emily and his isn't Aaron, in Vegas he's not a single father and she's not keeping a thousand secrets. In Vegas they pretend to be someone else, in Vegas things are different.

 _It's the reason he takes her every year._

He's watching her from afar, leaning with his back against the bar with a glass of scotch in his hand. She's sitting at a table in a breathtakingly short dress, winning and smiling, being more carefree and more at ease with herself than he's ever seen her in D.C.

Later that night when they're walking down the strip, it's she who reaches for his hand first. Their fingers tangle for everyone to see. When he turns his head to look at her, the sparkling lights are reflected in her dark eyes and he thinks that if it's all he can have, he might just have to learn to live with it.

.

They're in Wisconsin and it's Emily's idea to play the bait.

He doesn't like it, but after all, she's _damn_ good at it.

She's flirting, going much further than necessary, and all he wants to do is get her the _fuck_ out of that _damn_ club. But she doesn't need his help or anyone else's for that matter. She has their suspect in handcuffs before he really knows what's happening, and Morgan just chuckles while he pushes the guy into the backseat of a police car.

Back at the station Aaron's only half listening to what's going on in the interrogation room. He's watching Emily instead, wishing she would change back into her work clothes. He doesn't realize the way he's staring at her until Morgan asks him what she's done wrong.

Instead of giving Morgan an answer, he crosses the room in two strides, grabbing Emily by her forearm and pulling her with him and out of the station. He doesn't care who sees them, doesn't care what anyone might think. He's done caring.

He _fucks_ her in the backseat of one of their SUV's in the parking lot and it's rough and fast and desperate and he hates himself for it. But Emily only pulls him closer, her fingers curled around his tie, looking more satisfied than ever.

It's then that Aaron finally realizes that _hurting each other_ is what really _gets them off._

 _._

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**


	8. PART 8

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

 **AN:** **Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to** **my amazing beta reader the wonderful** **greeneyedconstellations** **!**

* * *

 **Where The Darkness Meets The Day**

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 **.**

 _-"You take it from me, my boy: there is no room in this business for love." - Terrence, Legends_

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* * *

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 **PART 8**

.

She falls for him the moment she walks into his office.

"Agent Hotchner?" she asks, with a dazzling smile on her face and a cardboard box in her hands. "My name is Agent Emily Prentiss."

It's not how it starts.

But it will be how it ends: in that moment when she finds herself reflected in the dark depths of his eyes.

.

* * *

 **.**

 **III**

 **.**

Emily's lying in her bed, listening to Aaron's even breathing from where he's sleeping next to her. His arm slung around her waist to hold her close against his chest, almost as if he's afraid she won't be there in the morning. _He's right._

She can't stay.

When she opens her eyes it's dark, the only light falling through a gap between the curtains. Carefully, to not disturb him in his sleep, Emily slips out from under his hold to get up.

She gets dressed in silence, praying that he won't wake up until she's gone, knows that she'll never be able to leave if he does. She looks back at him from the doorframe, wishing there was another way. But there isn't. Not for her. Not for them.

It would be easy to blame this on Ian, so easy to make this something it's never been, but she can't bring herself to do it. Can't bring herself to tell Aaron yet another lie, not when she knows that they'll never end up on the same page anyway. She should have left years ago, should have left the second her job had been done. _But she hadn't._

With the bedroom door closed behind her, Emily makes her way over to the living room, starts searching through the passports on the floor and the documents on the table. Relived when she finds everything important already gone.

She leaves a note on the table, hoping against her better judgment that Aaron will understand. He deserves better than _this,_ deserves more than a note. But she _can't_ and she never claimed to be a good person anyway.

She grabs her bag from where she kept it hidden in the back of the hallway dresser and it's all she takes with her when she leaves her apartment. She reaches for the phone first, slips it out as she goes, waits until the screen comes to life. Calling the only number she's supposed to while she makes it down the stairs.

Loic takes her call after the first ring, just like she knew he would. He'd been waiting years for this after all.

"There was no need to make such a mess, sweetheart," he drawls, more amused than anything else. "There are more interesting ways to get my attention."

Emily rolls her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, Loic. If you want me back on your team, stop talking and just send me a _fucking_ car."

He chuckles. "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"

"Why do you think I'm calling?" she asks, and she hates herself for being so smug about this. She hangs up on him, before he has the time to answer. She already knows there will be a car and a driver waiting for her as soon as she reaches her destination, a parking garage three blocks away. She's sure Loic had someone ready the second he got a look at the scene in Boston. He'd always known she'd come back. There was no changing how she was. She should have listened. Not only to Loic, but to Clyde as well.

 _You take it from me, my darling: there's no room in this business for love._

With a deep breath, Emily pushes through the doors in the lobby and steps out into the freezing night.

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **II**

 **.**

"But why run?" Reid frowns. "We could have helped her, we're her family!"

"Exactly!" Dave nods, pointing at the board. "Ian Doyle is killing families, she ran to protect us."

Aaron rubs his temples. He's heard enough. "All of this isn't going to help us find her!" he snaps, unable to contain his emotions any longer. He gets up from the table, leaving his team stunned when he pushes past Reid and out of the conference room.

It's not until he's back in the solitude of his office that he sits down behind his desk and finally allows himself to close his eyes.

 _How could he've been so blind?_

"Blaming yourself isn't going to help, you know."

Aaron looks up and finds Clyde Easter leaning in the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and a smug look on his face.

"So far your presence hasn't helped us much either," Aaron states coldly, and wishes he could just call security to throw the man out of the building. His arrogance was excruciating.

"I'm not here to help you."

"Then why don't you just leave? Do you even know her at all?"

"You know," Easter tells him bluntly. "The blonde one checked my record, twice, before I was even allowed to wait here for you."

"Her name's Garcia," Aaron presses between clenched teeth, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He doesn't really care about the guy either way; he just wants to find Emily.

"Do you remember what you were thinking when she walked into your office for the first time? After all the _obvious_ things I mean."

Aaron frowns. "What has this to do with anything?"

"That wasn't the question."

Aaron leans back in his chair, briefly closing his eyes. "Of course I remember."

"You didn't approve her transfer, did you? She showed up out of nowhere right after everything went _bloody_ wrong with your team."

"I don't-"

"How long did it take until she had you wrapped around her finger? How long until she impressed you so much that you pushed away your second thoughts? How long until she'd gotten under you skin? A month? A week? A couple of days?"

"What are you getting at?"

"I think you already know, don't you? She played you _beautifully,_ didn't she?"

Aaron stops, stares, the meaning of those words hitting him full force. _No._

"Are you saying that she's still working for the CIA? That all this time, everything-"

"No." Easter shakes his head. "She's not working for the CIA anymore. But she was when she walked into your office that very first time. She was the spy you suspected her to be."

"No, Strauss would never have played along with this, she-

"As far as Erin Strauss knows, she did Emily a favor by offering her a place in your unit. But the truth is, she had no say in it. In fact, Emily's assignment involved her, too."

Aaron shuts his eyes, swallows. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm telling you because Emily asked me to. And when it comes to her, I fear I'm as much of a fool as you are."

"She loves you, you and your son," Easter adds a moment later. "But you need to prepare yourself, because this isn't going to turn out the way you think it will. You don't know her as well as you think you do."

"And you know her better than me?" Aaron can't help but ask. Easter regards him with a long look.

"I know the woman she wanted me to know," he explains. "But that Emily hasn't much in common with the one who walked into your office."

"And how is this supposed to help us find her?"

"Like I said, I'm not here to help _you_."

Before Aaron has the time to understand, Reid interrupts them by rushing into his office.

"Hotch, I think we found her."

.

* * *

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 **I**

 **.**

He invites the team for his birthday on Saturday, and even though Emily tells Garcia she has different plans for the weekend, Garcia comes to pick her up anyway and Emily just doesn't have the energy to argue.

When Aaron opens the door and finds her standing next to Garcia he doesn't look surprised, and Emily can't shake the feeling that she's missing something. But she forgets the thought and gives him a smile and their present, _his favorite scotch,_ before she follows Garcia into his apartment.

She ends up building a castle out of Lego's with Jack and Reid on the living room floor, Henry sitting on her lap and leaving traces of chocolate on her blouse.

Emily feels Aaron watching her from where he's sitting at the table next to the others and she fights the urge to tell him to stop, keeps a smile plastered to her face and pretends she couldn't be happier instead.

Later, when she's standing next to the kitchen sink, trying to get the chocolate stains out of her blouse, JJ comes in asking for a glass. Emily opens the cupboard to her right without a second thought, reaching for a fresh glass before she even realizes what she's doing.

"How do you-" JJ starts, confused and surprised, while Emily meets Aaron's gaze from where he's standing behind JJ. Emily's still searching for words when there's a loud crash from the living room, followed by Henry screaming and Jack crying.

Aaron and JJ are out of the kitchen in seconds, _both of them in full parent mode_ , and Emily just shuts her eyes, wishing she never agreed to come over in the first place.

.

When Aaron asks her to spend Christmas with he and Jack, Emily wants to say yes. But instead she shakes her head and tells him that she's going to spend the holidays in Italy with her mother.

It's not the first lie she tells him, but it's the first that hurts.

She leaves a bag with presents in front of his doorstep without knocking, before she heads to the airport. But instead of Italy she flies to Vegas, and instead of spending the holidays with her mother, she spends it with gambling and winning and drinking until everything blurs together.

When she comes back to DC a few days later, her neighbor, the old lady next door, has a small gift bag waiting for her, telling her about the nice guy who came by on Christmas Eve with a little boy on his hand to leave this for her.

Whatever shows on her face must be enough for the old lady to understand. She offers Emily an encouraging smile and a pat on the arm before she disappears back to her own apartment.

Emily keeps looking at the gift bag for hours and it's not until she's downed a bottle of wine all by herself that she finally finds the courage to open it. There's a self-made Christmas card from Jack with a drawing that's achingly similar to the one she keeps hidden in the back of her safe. But there's also a small black jewelry box, and when she finally opens the lid with trembling fingers, the world just stops.

.

It's almost midnight when she shows up on his doorstep on New Years Eve, drunk and furious and there's something else, something she can't name. Something that scares her more than anything's ever scared her before.

When he opens the door she doesn't give him the time to utter a word before she shoves the black jewelry box against his chest, ready to scream and yell and-

She never gets to do any of it because the second the door falls shut, he has her pressed up against the wall, kissing her for all she's worth.

"No, Aaron, wait," Emily murmurs between kisses, trying to push him away, gasping for air. "What about Jack, we can't."

He shakes his head, once, twice, grabs her more forcefully, already tearing at her clothes, ready to rip the fabric apart.

"Jack's not here, he's staying with Jessica."

There's not much talking after that.

"It's not a commitment," he tells her at the crack of dawn, when she's about to slip out of his apartment.

"It looks pretty much like a commitment to me," Emily answers, her eyes resting on the black jewelry box in his hand. He shakes his head.

"It's a promise."

"I'm not good at keeping promises either," Emily whispers, but Aaron just gives her a warm smile, slipping the small box in her coat pocket.

"I'm going to keep it for both of us then."

.

It's Ashley who asks her. Straightforward and without so much as a blink.

"You're sleeping with him, aren't you?"

Emily almost loses control over their SUV. "Excuse me?" she rasps, quickly glancing in Ashley's direction and trying to keep the car on the road.

The blonde just shrugs. "You heard me."

In that moment Emily finally realizes that the young woman next to her is anything but insecure. That the innocent little girl Ashley pretends to be doesn't exist, that it's nothing but a facade, nothing but a disguise. Nothing but a role well played and that for the first time she hadn't been able to tell that right from the start. She'd been too unfocused to even notice.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," Ashley adds a moment later, and Emily takes a breathe she didn't even know she was holding.

.

It's one of those cases where everything goes wrong right from the start.

In the end they're caught in the middle of a shooting and when their unsub points his gun at Aaron, Emily throws herself in the line of fire without thinking.

"What the hell was that, Emily?" he asks her later, his voice raised dangerously. They're in his office, Aaron standing just a little too close, and she just wishes he would leave her alone.

"I could ask you the same," she snaps. "You're the one who wasn't even been wearing a vest!"

He takes a step back and Emily's glad. The truth is she'd have thrown herself in front of him even if she hadn't been wearing that _bloody_ vest. She'd take that bullet for him either way. But it's not like she can ever tell him that.

The pain comes later, when she's in the parking garage, on her way to her car. One second it's a dull ache somewhere in her lower abdomen, the next she's barely able to stand.

She tries to keep a blank expression while she staggers forward and in the direction of her car, but the second she pulls the door shut behind her she's gasping for air, the pain unbearable.

There's something warm and sticky soaking her pants and she doesn't need to look down to know it's blood.

With her eyes closed and her hands around the steering wheel she tries to get a hold of herself, tries to think, tries to figure out what to do without Aaron finding out later.

There's a knock on her side window, and before Emily can turn her head the door swings open. A voice, familiar somehow, calling her name. Emily blinks and when her sight clears, she almost laughs. It's Ashley.

She says something Emily can't make sense of until she spots the phone in her hands. "Don't," Emily presses between clenched teeth, her fingers curling around Ashley's wrist in a death grip. "Don't tell him. Don't."

She keeps saying it the whole ride to the hospital.

"It was his," Ashley states the next day, when Emily shows up for work despite her doctor's orders.

Emily says nothing; after all, Ashley's not really asking a question.

.

"You've been avoiding me."

Aaron corners her in the hallway a few days later, his dark eyes searching hers, and she can't help but flinch when his fingers brush against hers.

He looks startled. "What happened?" he asks, his voice thick with worry and Emily can't stand looking at him.

"It's nothing," she says, but her words are barely above a whisper.

"Emily-"

"Let it go," she says, taking a step backwards. "Just let it go, Aaron."

.

Emily's sitting at her desk, watching Jack and Aaron in his office. They're sitting next to each other, Aaron looking through some paperwork and Jack drawing a picture.

"What's Jack doing here?" Morgan asks when he comes to a halt next to her, placing a coffee cup on the edge of her desk.

"Dentist appointment," Emily explains, taking her coffee without looking at Morgan. "Jessica is going to pick him up in an hour."

Morgan asks her something else but Emily isn't paying attention anymore. She's focused on the little girl sitting next to Jack in Aaron's office, dark hair, dark eyes and the same innocent look on her face as Jack, the girl Emily knows is not really sitting there, and yet she can't stop _looking_ at her.

There's an emptiness she's never felt before, emptiness she doesn't understand, because even if nature hadn't taken matters into its own hands, she knows she'd never have had that baby.

"Emily." A hand on her shoulder makes her blink. She looks up, startled when she finds Aaron next to her. How did he…

"You look like you've seen a ghost, are you alright?"

Her eyes flash back to his office, meeting Jack's. He's still sitting at his father's desk, a blue crayon in his hand, watching her curiously. No, not her, she realizes, _them._

"I'm fine," Emily breathes, and when she turns to face Aaron again, all she sees is herself reflected in the dark depths of his eyes. Not the way she sees herself when she looks in the mirror, but the way he sees her.

And with the blink of an eye, Emily wonders if this might be enough.

.

* * *

.

 _"I told my little girl something when I thought she was old enough to hear it._

 _I said, "Honey, you can give a man a lot of things. You can give him your time, your money, even your heart._

 _But the one thing you can never ever let go of is your power._

 _You have to be able to walk away at any time."_

 _\- L. Heather, CSI Vegas_

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.**


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